


It was marvelous to know you

by Lifeisruined



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, barba's on broadway, sonny's still a detective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 14:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeisruined/pseuds/Lifeisruined
Summary: He must be squirming because Gina elbows him sharply.This is fine. He can handle this. He is thirty-four years old. He is an SVU detective. He’s a fucking lawyer, too. He can handle some handsome guy.





	It was marvelous to know you

**Author's Note:**

> Title from With So Little to be Sure Of from Anyone Can Whistle.
> 
> I had this idea months ago, rewrote it about a million times, and then decided to make a one-shot of something cute. If I get any more ideas I'll make this a series (please, send me prompts on tumblr either in this universe or really just anything barisi)
> 
> Find me here:  
> [cryingaboutbroadway](https://cryingaboutbroadway.tumblr.com/)

Sonny isn’t a theatre fan, okay. It’s not his thing. He’s watched so many of his sisters’ school productions (big shock: Gina and Teresa loved being the center of attention), and, when he was fourteen, he was dragged to an actual Broadway musical because his cousin was a dancer in the show. Sonny doesn’t really remember the show—he’s pretty sure he fell asleep at some point because it was after his baseball practice—but he does remember the next morning, before school, begging his dad to never make him go again.

“You were there to support Kayla, Sonny,” his dad told him.

“Half the theatre was our family,” Sonny argued. “I doubt Kayla cares if I’m there or not.”

“That’s not the point, kid.”

Sonny had scowled, stabbing at his waffles. After a while, though, he said, “Kayla doesn’t come to my games.” And when his dad opened his mouth, Sonny quickly followed with, “And don’t you hate Aunt Margo anyway?”

His dad had stared at him for a long moment, long enough for Sonny to be unsure if he was about to be grounded or not. “This isn’t about my feelings for Aunt Margo. _But_ I won’t make you go anymore if you promise to be serious about that team.”

“That team” being a travel All-star baseball team that was basically the best under-18 boys in New York. Sonny had received an offer to try-out, but with that and his high school team, he’d have virtually no spare time. He hadn’t decided either way which he wanted to do, but with this in front of him right now, he readily agreed.

So Sonny hadn’t been to the theatre since that show. That’s perfectly fine with him. He likes buying tickets for his sisters or mom on a holiday or birthday with the promise of him not having to go. In return, they buy him tickets to a Mets or a Rangers game (though Bella will go to hockey games with him). It’s a great system.

So it’s understandable, really, when Sonny refuses when Gina asks. They’re at lunch, a monthly sibling-get-together. Apparently, some coworker can’t use the tickets anymore and gave them to Gina. She spent half of lunch excitedly talking about it.

Sonny smiles and nods, happy that she’s so excited, and he’s only absently paying attention when he hears his name. He doesn’t know what Teresa said, but Gina’s got this look on her face, like she’s two seconds away from clapping her hands together.

“Oh, yes!” she says, reaching across the table to lay a hand on his forearm. “That sounds awesome, doesn’t it? When’s the last time we did something just the two of us?”

Wait, what? “What?”

“Please, Sonny? You’d be the best brother ever.”

“I’m your only brother,” he responds immediately, and because he’s a detective he can figure out what they’re talking about. Gina was gushing about the musical tickets, he’s positive, and that means—“No.”

“Oh, come on! Who else am I supposed to take?”

“Bella. Teresa. Mom. _Dad_. One of our hundred fucking relatives. A friend. What about that guy you’re seeing? The doctor?”

“Teresa’s dating the doctor,” Gina says. “She has a date with him that night. Mom and Dad have plans.”

“Tommy’s working late that night,” Bella tells him. “I’m on baby duty.”

“ _I’ll_ watch Anna. There, problem solved.”

Gina pouts. “It’s almost like you don’t wanna spend time with me.”

Really? That didn’t work when they were kids, and it’s not gonna work now. He gives her a look, narrows his eyes. Gina doesn’t shy away, stares at him as if she can will him to comply.

Bella shakes his arm. “Think of it this way—if you don’t go, Gina’s gonna go alone. She’s going to be wandering around New York City at night by herself.”

“She’s a grown up,” Sonny argues, but he knows he’s going to give in. He _knows_.

Bella punches his shoulder.

“ _Fine_. But I make promises about having the night off.”

Gina’s beaming at him, though, and a small part of him is okay with suffering through a musical if it means his sister is this happy. Whatever. It’s one show. He’ll live.

***

When the night comes, a week later, Sonny’s dead on his feet. The squad’s just finished a rather grueling case, Sonny’s spent the majority of the day finishing paperwork, and as soon as he walks through the door, he flops on the couch. He closes his eyes with a sigh, more than ready to cancel on Gina and sleep instead.

But Gina knows him. It’s as if she read his mind, her knocking on his door within minutes. He groans as he drags himself up, frowning when Gina pushed past him as soon as he opens the door.

“You’re not ready,” is the first thing out of her mouth.

He squints at her. “I just got home.”

She hums in the way that means she’s not really listening. He falls back on the couch, tiredly watching as she marches into his bedroom. “What are you wearing?” she calls. “Oh, never mind. I’ll find something.”

Sonny’s pretty sure he says something. He doesn’t know. He’s too busy nodding off, head tilting back against the couch. Next thing he knows, he’s startled awake, a pair of his pants on his face. “The fuck?” he mutters.

“Get dressed,” Gina says. Something else lands on his head, then something on his lap. “Sonny, you can sleep in the cab. Just get up.”

(Sonny does, in fact, nap in the cab.)

Gina’s talking again, about the plot and the actors and whatever, while Sonny debates if he’ll be able to get away with sleeping during the show. It’ll be dark, he doesn’t snore, and no one will pay him any attention. Gina might not be happy, but he’s there, isn’t he? He came willingly. He’s subtly trying to find a comfortable position (his long legs were not meant for theatre seats apparently) through the beginning of the show. A glance at his sister during the first song tells him she’s paying him no mind. Okay. This will work. He can feel himself relaxing, ready to fall asleep, when, in between his eyes fluttering, he sees _him_.

It’s a glance at first. Sonny’s eyes slide over him, ready to close, when his sluggish brain finally comes online. His eyes snap open, his body jerking upright. He’s wide awake now.

The man is quite possibly one of the most attractive men—no, one of the most attractive _people_ Sonny’s ever seen. Even from here, Sonny can see the gray at his temples, the stray curl falling over his forehead, and his beard is so nice Sonny is torn between jealousy and arousal. His t-shirt is kind of tight, showing off his biceps, cut low enough that the necklace he’s wearing glitters when the light hits it just right. And his jeans— _damn_. Sonny’s never been more thankful tight jeans exist. Sonny’s ready to start praising God right there for bringing this guy into his life.

He’s so focused on staring at the guy (let’s be honest here: Sonny’s eyes keep drifting back down to below his waist) that he tunes out what’s being said on stage. At least until the guy starts singing, the most beautiful voice Sonny’s ever heard, and Sonny kind of wants to die because he’s seriously fighting a boner in _public_. He tries closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, but then all he can focus on his that voice and _it’s not helping_.

He must be squirming because Gina elbows him sharply.

This is fine. He can handle this. He is thirty-four years old. He is an SVU detective. He’s a fucking lawyer, too. He can handle some handsome guy.

Gina’s smiling when the lights come up in between acts. She looks smug. “You seem to be enjoying it,” she says. “I knew you’d have fun.”

Sonny nods slowly, blinking. “Oh, uh, yeah. It’s not as bad as I remember.” He thinks if this guy was around when he was younger, he probably would have never stopped going. He would’ve begged his parents to _go_. “Yeah, thanks for convincing me to come.”

Gina squeezes his hand. “Well, if you’re still tired, you have some time to nap before act two.” She stands, smoothing down her dress. “Be right back.”

He watches her go, settling back in his chair. When he shifts, trying to stretch his legs out, he nudges something on the floor. Leaning over, he sees the Playbill he must’ve dropped when drifting off. He picks it up, glancing around as if he’s doing something wrong.

Flipping through, he first settles on the cast page, the man’s picture staring up at him. The picture doesn’t do him justice, he thinks, studying the way the man’s head turned slightly, eyes focused on something beyond the camera, as if someone was talking to him. He’s sporting a small smirk, corners of his mouth quirked up.

Sonny lets his finger trace over the man’s name. _Rafael Barba_. Sonny stares a moment longer, wondering what color his eyes are, before flipping to the cast bios. He reads through Rafael Barba’s, noting the list of shows as well as the mention that he’s won multitudes of awards.

He flips back to the picture, running his finger along the slope of Rafael Barba’s nose. And when the man who’s sat on his other side sits back down, Sonny finds himself slapping the Playbill shut, tucking it into his jacket pocket. He smiles when Gina comes back. “I didn’t ask earlier,” he says. “How was work today?”

(Sonny spends the rest of the play staring at Rafael Barba, it’s fine, but toward the end, when the leading actress jumps into his arms and he catches her effortlessly, Sonny bites back a groan, really wishing he was either alone or dead.)

(When he gets home later, he absolutely does not jerk off to thoughts of the actor.)

***

Rollins and Fin both text him requesting coffee. He’s on his way to work, thinking about grabbing himself coffee and a pastry from the café that’s a block away from his apartment, when he gets the texts. It’s usually like this. They claim the café he goes to has the best coffee. He thinks they’re just lazy.

He’s sending them a response, gaze down at his phone, holding the door open for the couple leaving, when someone bumps into him, jostling him enough that the door hits whoever’s walking through at that moment. Sonny’s head jerks up at the curse, an apology on his lips, only to die when he catches sight of the face.

Because it’s been nearly two months. It’s been two months, but Sonny would recognize that scowling face anywhere. He’s been dreaming of that face for two fucking months.

He’s frozen, mouth opening and closing like a dumbass, when _finally_ he registers the coffee on the ground by the guy’s feet. He says, “Um.” He’s even better this close. His hair looks soft, the gray making him seem more sophisticated, and Sonny can see the gray creeping in his beard as well. Sonny can see the chain of a necklace peeking out from underneath the collar of his shirt. Being this close is definitely not good for Sonny’s sanity.

The guy glares at him, moving out of the doorway so a woman can pass through.

“I’m sorry,” Sonny says. “Someone hit me. I, uh. Are you in a hurry? I can buy you another one?”

Rafael Barba loses his scowl, but his eyes—green; after two months Sonny knows they’re green—narrow, head tilting as he considers Sonny. “I’d appreciate that,” he says slowly, and when he shifts, his shoe squeaks.

Sonny winces, eyes darting down to the wet sneakers. “I can’t do anything about your shoes,” he says. “Sorry about that.”

The guy waves him off, stepping back inside. Sonny follows him to the back of the line. “Coffee is all that matters,” he says. He turns away from Sonny, stepping up to the counter to order another coffee. He waits off to the side while Sonny orders his four coffees (because Liv didn’t ask, but it’s not like he’s gonna show up with coffee for everyone but her) and croissant.

While they’re waiting, Sonny fidgets nervously, mind racing through every possible way to sound smooth and not like a teenager flirting for the first time. “I’m Sonny,” he says eventually.

The guy gives him that look, the one Sonny gets by every adult who wonders why a grown man chooses to go by that name. “Rafael,” he says after a pause.

And all of Sonny’s hard work to not sound like a loser goes right out the window when he responds with, “I know.” He closes his eyes, trying to will some emergency to pop up that requires his immediate attention, before sighing. “I mean—that’s not…I saw your play a couple months ago.”

“Oh? You don’t seem like the type.”

Is that an insult? It sounded like an insult. “I’m not. My sister brought me. But you were really good. I mean, I don’t really have a reference, but you did…great. Um.”

Rafael looks at him again.

Sonny sighs, glancing down at his hands. This is going well. He finally meets the guy he’s been dreaming about for months, and he fucks it up. Awesome. He shouldn’t be allowed to talk to people.

“What was your favorite part?” Rafael asks, startling him. “Or least favorite. I’m open to criticism.”

“Oh.” Sonny doesn’t even remember the name. “Can I be honest?”

Rafael’s surprised. He nods.

“You,” Sonny admits. “I just—you’re really handsome, you know? The only thing I remember is how those jeans fit you.” He blushes, picking at his sleeve. “Sorry if that’s weird.”

“No, it’s fine.” He sounds weird, though, and when Sonny glances up, he feels a warmth overcome him at the sight of the red on Rafael’s cheeks. “I’m too old for it, but they thought it’d be good. I thought I looked stupid.”

“I can assure you, you were anything but stupid.” If Sonny had any hopes of getting over his hopeless crush, it’s gone the moment Rafael smiles (a real smile) at him. “God, my sister thinks she’s converted me into a theatre fan.”

“You’re saying my ass didn’t convert you?”

Sonny laughs, biting his lip to stop his smile. “Oh, no. I would definitely pay hundreds of dollars to see your ass in those jeans again.”

“Well, as long as the show makes money.”

They get their coffee, then, and Sonny opens his mouth to ask for his number when Rafael places his hand on his arm, giving him a smile. “Would you like to grab dinner some time, Sonny?”

“Yes.” He flushes at how quickly he answered, but he refuses to break eye contact. “Yes, I—I would like that. Um, here, hold on.” He puts his things down on the closest table, pulling his phone out. “I can text you?”

Rafael smirks, taking his phone. “Yes, you can.” He types his number in, letting his fingers brush over Sonny’s when he hands the phone back. “I look forward to it.”

Sonny’s rooted to the spot because Rafael winked at him. Rafael Barba fucking _winked_ at him before he left, and Sonny is absolutely broken. He unlocks his phone, smiling when his new contact is the first thing he sees. He hesitates, not wanting to seem desperate, but he opens a new message. _Is next Saturday okay? Or Friday?_ Then, right after, _This is Sonny, the guy who’s still really sorry about spilling your coffee._

He’s halfway to the station when he gets an answer.

_Saturday’s perfect._ Sonny’s typing out his response when a new message pops up. _If you think jeans look good, wait til you see me in a suit._

Sonny doesn’t bother hiding his smile. _Can’t wait_.

He’s pretty sure he smiles like a fucking idiot the entire day.


End file.
